Sway with Me
by magapple
Summary: It's Callie and Erica's first night out dancing. Takes place during the beginning of their friendship.


**Title:** Sway with Me  
**Author: **magapple  
**Rating:** PG  
**Fandom: **Grey's Anatomy  
**Pairing:** Callie/Erica  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.  
**Summary: **It's Callie and Erica's first night out dancing. Takes place during the beginning of their friendship.  
**Author's Note: **This has been sitting here for a few days. And by that I mean since 2009. This story has been beta'd by DianeB because everyone needs a beta reader and also because English isn't my first language and I write like a six-year-old. So enjoy.

When I was an intern, one of the first things I learned was to always be ready, to always be one step ahead. This was for my sake —because, if I'm being honest, my peers were my competition, above all— and for the sake of my patients. So I studied the cases, I read every investigation textbook and new and developing procedure I could put my hands on, and I used my knowledge to the advantage of myself and the patients. To say that I care more about the patients than about being the best is irrelevant. You see, by wanting to be the best, I was helping them get better. Should it concern me if I cared more about _my_ success than their well-being? In any case, by striving to be the best, and succeeding, I could always take charge. I was —am— like my mentors were, always ready. Nothing surprised me because that was my element and I knew, _I knew_, what to do. Uncertainty, nervousness, insecurity… Those were foreign concepts to me.

Until now.

I'm outside Callie's apartment and I feel anything but sure of myself, much less ready. I still don't remember very well how I agreed to go dancing when I don't do that. Why would I do that, if it's so crowded, the music is so loud and —let's face it— I'm not a really good dancer. I just don't do that, but I promised her that, if she played darts with me, then I would go dancing with her. And I am a woman who keeps her promises.

So, when I ring the bell, I can't help but think this night is pretty much going to suck; even if I'll be with Callie.

She opens the door and greets me with that megawatt smile that it's only hers. "Hey," she says. "You made it," she looks at me from head to toe. "And you look good. Nice legs, Doctor Hahn." I suddenly feel the rush to cover my body with my matching coat as she goes inside the apartment.

When I enter the apartment, I notice it's not really big and it is completely messy. There's a couch in which I imagine Callie sleeps on, but as comfortable as the couch looks, I can't imagine how Callie manages to sleep there night after night, and with _Yang _under the same roof, no less.

"I'm sorry this place is... Well, like this," Callie tells me while grabbing her purse. "It's mostly Cristina's. She's not really that neat, you know." I nod in agreement and a little relieved it's not all Callie's. "So, ready?" She grins at me.

"Not really. See, I don't think this is a good idea." I shift from side to side, pursing my lips.

Callie dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand and shakes her head. "Nonsense. You're going to love it. Plus, you promised me, remember?" I do remember. Which is why I can't back away from it now because I _promised_ to her. I don't make promises I can't or won't keep. It's what they teach you from the beginning at medical school —_Do not, to anyone, make promises you can't keep_, and I don't. Never. But now I promised and I have to do it, even if I don't feel like it. "Fine," I finally reply after a moment. "But I'm not going to one of those 'Get naked and get high' clubs, Torres. I draw the line there." I warn her while I walk down the hall and she closes the door behind her.

"All right," Callie agrees. "I'll think of something else," she jokes, and now she's walking next to me, entwining our arms, laughing.

* * *

"Erica, _come on_!" Callie drags the last word to somehow make her point clear. Or to annoy me, I'm not sure which. She is leaning towards me and shouting at my ear since the music is so loud. "You said you will. And I didn't come just to sit here." She's looking at me with that pleading look of hers that resembles a puppy so much, and a little upset I'm not bending to her wishes, too.

"I did not say I'd dance with you, Callie," I tell her, denying her statement. I think about it, though. This place is decent enough so I know she tried to think of a club that I could at least not loathe; but, on the other hand, I don't think dancing is such a good idea. I knew this was going to happen —Callie asking me to dance with her. Of course it will happen, we are in a club, so it only makes sense she's asking me this. And I should agree to it, but I'm a terrible dancer. I'm awkward and uncoordinated and I'm not sure I want her to know that yet.

"Oh, come on," she says. "It's like me saying I'd agree to play darts with you but I'll only watch." Callie folds her arms around her chest, a grin on her face that tells me she thinks she's won. Unfortunately for me, I think so too. I have no way out of this and something tells me that, even if I do, she is going to find some other way to drag me to the dance floor even if I don't want to.

"I don't even like that song, Torres." And, of course, the song changes.

Callie giggles at the irony of it. "Is there anything else you don't like, Doctor Hahn? My dress? Your drink?" She points at my glass of wine and I can't help but smile back.

But now I'm looking at her dress and I realize I haven't seen her for the whole night. I mean, not _really _seen her, and now that I have, I have to admit she looks really, _really_ pretty. No, no she doesn't; she looks beautiful, and it amazes me how good she can look by wearing a simple black dress and her hair down, a few locks of raven hair hanging lazily on her shoulders, and that beautiful, brighter-than-the-sun smile that I'm sure can lift up even the dead. That brought even _me_ to her. Perhaps that's what makes her so uncommonly beautiful, so incredibly unique.

"What?"

I realize now that the smile has chased away from my face at the realization of how beautiful Callie looks and it's been replaced with something that I assume reflects my amusement, which is why she's frowning slightly.

"Nothing," I assure her. "It's just that I hadn't notice your..." I try to tell her but I stop half way because I'm not sure whether or not I can tell her this, horribly aware it would be too out of character for me _and _the lines of friendship. "Your—"

"What? What did you say?" Callie leans forward to hear me better and, somehow, I'm a little relieved that she didn't hear me. "I can't hear what you're saying."

"I said _'nothing',_" I enunciate the last word a little slower and louder so she can hear me clearly. "Now, are you taking me to the dance floor or what?" I challenge her because, honestly? I think it's less awkward that she learns about my zero dancing skills than what I was really thinking. Then, I stand up and look at her, something like amusement and excitement lies on her features at the same time and it makes me shiver that she can show her emotions that easily, without even considering the possibility of showing herself too much, of getting hurt.

I admire her boldness. I _envy_ it.

Callie holds up my hand and leads me to the dance floor, swaying her hips all the way there. Once we're there, she puts her hands on my hips and, leaning forward, tells me to sway them. I awkwardly shift from left to right, a weird look on my face and, I realize now, utterly not attuned to the music. Callie smiles at me. There's something like pity on her face that makes me blush a little and I immediately look down to cover my betraying feelings all over my face. I hate that she sometimes has that horrible effect on me, on my _feelings_. Callie Torres is fun to be around, surprisingly fun, actually, given how different we are, but I hate that she can convince me of everything she wants to do and that, when she says or does something like _that_, I have _nothing _at all to defend myself with. Though, even if I did, I don't think I'd want to.

There are moments like these when I hate Callie Torres.

"No, no," Callie shakes her head, smiling. "Don't—", she stops shortly when the song changes again; this time into a somewhat classic, Latin kind. Fear —something I quite hadn't experienced in a very long time— creeps all the way to my fingertips and I hurry my way to the bar so she won't make me. Because, if I can barely move with normal tune, then there's no way I can dance to that erotic, flirtatious genre without making a fool out of myself. And Doctor Hahn _never _does that.

Callie follows me all the way to the bar and looks at me, her gaze never leaving mine, a pleading look on her face _yet again. _

I finish my drink and look at her again. "No," I firmly say.

"This song is great to make you learn," Callie says in a whining tone.

"No," I say once more.

"Please—"

"No—"

"_Pleas—_"

"_N—_"

"_Please, please, ple_—"

"Damn it, Torres!" I think I give her my, as she likes to call it, _Hahn_ _Glare_ because she looks a little scared right now.

She sits on the bar stool and I realize that she is not going to ask me anymore. I realize that I've won, for the first time. It's true —I have never won with Callie. She's always convinced me to do all sorts of things I wouldn't normally do nor would I let someone drag me into, but Callie has this way of making me act very much unlike me. She brings so much fun and excitement to my life, fun I didn't know I was missing until the first time we made fun of Sloan's lame attempt at playing darts and I laughed with all there was in me. Perhaps this… _lifestyle —_the excitement, the fun, everything she makes me do— has always been in me and all that it was missing was her and her bright smile. I don't think so, though. I don't think there was always a possibility that I could be this sociable and interesting, and that all I needed was _her _for me to be that way. That is completely absurd.

Isn't it?

And still, this doesn't feel right. The pursing of her lips while she watches the bartender pour her another drink tells me this is not how it was supposed to feel when I won. Then again, I had never really thought about winning her on anything. I was fine with her always convincing me to do this or that because, in the end, it was always fun.

"Fine," I grovel. This so unlike me. Doctor Hahn _never _grovels. I cannot believe that, by her sadness alone, she's got me to do this. There are moments like this when I think this woman might change me and that thought terrifies me more than anything. But then I recognize fear which I despise even more because I don't _feel_ fear. I'm _never_ confused.

There are moments like this when I _really_ hate Callie Torres.

When we get to the dance floor, Callie puts her hands on my hips and sways me. She asks me if I get it and when I shyly nod, she moves her right hand to mine and her left one on to the small of my back.

Then, she leans forward. "I'll lead, okay? Just… relax. Trust me," I nod and try to move with the music.

After a few more songs, another hundred more spins, wrong turns and awkward holds, we head back to the bar. I hate to admit this, but I don't remember having this much fun in months. It's always fun when I'm around Callie, but this is something else. I've never seen her this happy and the way she dances… the way _I_ dance with her, is surprisingly enjoyable.

Her smile could lighten up this entire room. And, I think, it's already done so to pieces of me.

Callie finishes her shot, gets up and tilts her head to one side. I look at her from the corner of my eye and then turn to fully face her. "Yes?" I intone.

"Well, hurry up! I don't have all night." She taps the table top and proceeds to fold her arms over her chest. When she notices that I don't quite understand what she's talking about, she clarifies, "To go dancing again. What, you thought that was it?" she sounds a little surprised.

I squint my eyes in disbelief for a second. She's got to be kidding. "I was kind of hoping that _was_ it, actually."

She gives me that look, like she's trying to figure out if I'm really that naïve. "Wha— Are you serious?" She takes my beer from my hand, places it on the tabletop, grabs me by the wrist and unceremoniously drags me to the dance floor. "There is _no way_ we are leaving this club until you learn some moves." She stops when she finds an empty spot in the sea of dancers and then turns to face me. "I mean, you're okay for a beginner, but you're still a little stiff, Doctor Hahn," she says jokingly. Again, places her left hand on my lower back, pushes me towards her, and her right hand goes to hold mine in the air. "You need to trust me, Erica."

She's right. I do need to trust her so she can lead properly, so she can lead the way. But, I barely know her. How can I trust her if I barely know her? We've only been out to Joe's when we were both off of work and that is it. Well… That's not it. In those occasions, we've laughed until it hurt, we've mocked Mark Sloan, _she_ has _trusted_ me to teach her how to play darts and, even though she never really got it, it was fun; she has even trusted me enough to talk to me about her life, her relationship with that idiot O'Malley, and we've even talked about how unbelievably suicidal it is to have _Yang_ as a roommate —well, _I've_ talked about that. So, if I really think about it, I _can_ trust her with this, right? It's not like I'll tell her my whole life right here, in the middle of the dance floor. All she's asking is for me to trust her with this insignificant dance.

It's _only_ a dance.

So, I let go. I let her; I let _myself_.

"That's better," Callie says when I relax into her embrace. "Now, I think..." she moves my left hand, which was previously hanging awkwardly by my side, to the nape of her neck, under all that jet-black hair. "Yeah, that's it. A guy wouldn't have this much hair, though," she smiles apologetically.

Callie shrugs her shoulders, first one and then the other, and shifts from right to left, forward and backwards. She makes it look so simple and fast that I'm tempted to try it, and when I do it and fail, I realize that, to me, this is so incredibly difficult. No wonder I avoided these moments, these songs. How very ironic —the heart surgeon, the woman who can keep her arms inside a chest cavity for hours and make precise incisions, remove diseases so carefully and flawlessly, can't seem to get a few simple dance steps. When it comes to dancing, I think I have no abilities at all.

I can feel my blood going all the way to my face and I immediately look down at my feet. I hear Callie's little giggle and it makes me blush even more if possible. She cups my chin and lifts my face to properly look at me. When I look into her eyes, I see she's not laughing at my terrible attempt to dance, but at my embarrassment instead.

"Maybe if you loosen the grip," she points at my now formed fist at the nape of her neck that I didn't know I was doing. "Okay," she says resolutely. "You need to learn and I…" Callie turns me around and pulls me towards her, my back against her chest, her arms surrounding my stomach instead. "_I_ am going to teach you." I can feel her smile and her warm breath on my shoulder. I shiver a little, just then.

I don't have many friends. I usually don't like people, so I'm not really keen on making friends. I barely talk to my colleagues for that matter, and my career takes a lot of time so I can't afford to spend it on people that, in the end, will distract you from your aim —success. But I made friends with Callie. I really don't know how it is we're friends if we are so different. She's talkative, interesting, gentle, sweet, beautiful. And I… I am Dr. Hahn. That never worked with her, though. She was never afraid of my emptiness, my cold heart, my death glare; maybe that's why I never had to use it with her. See, when I'm with Callie, it's like I almost become a different person. The Erica buried inside me wants to experience life and I, surprisingly, let her. But, then again, right now, Callie and I? Her physical proximity, the way I'm wrapped around her makes me very conscious that _this _is_ not _something most _friends_ would do. On the other hand, Callie is not just _people. _She's touchy and grabby and friendly without even noticing —she's laughed against my shoulder the morning after we met as if we knew each other for forever— and she doesn't think it's a big deal. It's not; I guess it's not a big deal, but I don't know these rules of friendship, so I have no idea if this it's okay or if, somehow, Callie is— Well, if it's not that common.

Still, I don't think I'd stop her if what she's doing is not what most friends do. It'll be too boring without her.

I turn to face her and quirk my eyebrow in uncertainty, "What are you doing?"

"Relax. This is the only way I can think of teaching you without making us both look stupid," she turns me around again and grabs my fist. "Now, sway your hips making a horizontal eight." I comply and sway my hips while Callie shows me how to move my shoulders, and I think I get it now. And it's quite fun.

"See? Now, turn around. Do it yourself."

She spins me around and I immediately feel the cold wind against my back and can no longer smell her perfume as intensely as I did five seconds ago. What it felt like months against her chest were only seconds. How… unfair? Sad?

Now that I'm facing her, I try to do it and, this time, I get it right. And it really is quite easy.

Callie smiles. I love it when she smiles. Her smile alone can illuminate a whole room; even if it's one as dark as this one is, she makes it brighter. Her smile makes me want to smile, too. Her presence alone makes me want to smile; it almost makes me want to let go of myself, but I can't do that, can I? I have too much to lose.

Immediately, I realize I _have_ been letting go of myself with her. A little, at least.

And so fear creeps inside me.

I freeze, then. I let go of her hands —a bit reluctantly, I must admit— and turn to make my way to the bar, grab my coat and rebuild my barrier, protect myself. But Callie stops me again. When she holds my hand and stops me, I feel something rushing through all my body, from the tip of my fingers, from the hand that she's taking in hers. I look at our hands and then at her, worry and confusion in her features. She's worried about me. I don't think I've seen that look on anyone before. Not about _me. _Not for a very long time, that is.

"What's wrong?"

"I, uh…," I shake my head. I don't think I can remember _what _was wrong. "I—"

"Excuse me," someone interrupts me. It's a man. A tall, dark-haired, quite handsome man, and he is standing next to another one who looks a lot like Mark Sloan. I wonder, for a moment, if he is related to him. "Hi. Would you ladies like to dance?"

Callie grins at me before she answers somewhat quickly, "Yes," she says eagerly and gently pushes me towards the dark-haired guy and then starts to dance with the guy that could almost be Sloan's clone.

When we start to dance, or something like it, he puts his hands on my hips just like Callie did before and I move like she said, a strange feeling rushing through my whole body again. I think it's insecurity. About what, I don't know. Except, I do. I know that this… this _feeling_ is because I don't know if I'm doing this right; not because I've never danced with a man, but because I've never danced _this_ way with a man.

When I look at Callie, she's dancing with Sloan's clone with her back against his chest and dangerously swaying her hips. Very dangerously, very provocatively. Then, she turns around and puts her arms on his shoulders while he pulls her closer to him, grabbing her hips and swaying her, turning her, smelling her, caressing her. While she's cheek to cheek with him, she looks at me and gives me the thumbs up along with her big smile. I don't know if it's encouragement or if she's telling me that she likes Sloan's clone. From the way she is dancing with the guy, I think it is more likely to be the latter.

When the music changes to a faster rhythm, that I think I can handle better because there are less chances to make a fool out of myself or miss a step when there are no established steps, and the man I'm dancing with stops touching me —it's not that I don't find him attractive. It's just that I'm not in the mood for this tonight. I look at Callie to try and register my relief reflected on her face, but I don't think she feels the same. Even though this song is a lot faster and less grabby than the previous one, she's still flirtatiously dancing with that guy, with her back against his chest again. And he's all for it too, because he's grabbing Callie's upper thigh and slowly swaying her while she's got her hand wrapped lazily around his neck, slowly, dangerously, _painfully_, going up and down his body.

I feel a monster scratching my stomach, a sudden need to push that ape of a man away from her and tell her that she shouldn't do that with him. With anyone. I don't like these irrational feelings inside me. It's like anger, protectiveness and… _passion_ all smashed into one, in the pit of my stomach, making a monster grow.

This is not like me. Not like me at all.

I stop dancing then. _Again. _Only this time I excuse myself and successfully make my way to the bathroom. I need to calm myself. I need to _think_ because, clearly, I am not doing that.

Callie Torres is my _friend_. There's no reason for me to worry about her because she knows what she's doing. There's no reason to be overprotective just because she's dancing with Sloan's clone.

Maybe it's just that. Maybe, I'm just annoyed or jealous or whatever it is that I am because some twisted part of my brain finds Mark Sloan impossibly irresistible.

Right. This is when I begin to fool myself _yet again_.

I open the faucet, letting the water run for a second. I think about splashing water on my face but don't do it. After closing the faucet, I pace back and forth in the small space, my heartbeat not slowing down at all.

Of course Mark Sloan's clone is not the problem. It's the woman he's dancing with that unsettles me this much. And the sad thing is, I know why and, still, I keep on fooling myself.

I would have never agreed to go dancing with someone —much less the way I did with her— if that person had been someone else. I would have never spent my free time or lunch breaks with someone I don't have anything in common with. Because that's a lie too —our differences. We aren't completely different; in fact, she's refreshingly uncommon, she's just like me and yet fun and interesting. She's all the good things I'm not and that makes her more than appealing. Maybe even more than unique, I don't know.

But, I hate that I know this. I hate that this is happening; that she makes me… _jealous._ This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to… to _feel_ this thing that I feel for her and now…And I can't believe I let her do this to me. I cannot believe I can't stop her, or myself. I _refuse_ to believe I don't want to.

But… wouldn't it be easy —or at least manageable— to stop this feeling if I could?

I, Dr. Hahn, world-class surgeon, can't stop myself from wanting this woman, from wishing it would be _me_ instead of that ridiculously, tiny man dancing with her. But this is just going to end in chaos because Callie is straight. And so am I. Or, at least, I never thought I _wasn't_. I never really let myself think about it. Not until now. Not until… her.

I grab the sink and close my eyes, hard. This is so unlike me. So stupid. So immature. So irrational… And so very scary.

And yet here I was, thinking I feared nothing.

"Is everything all right, Erica?" I turn around and see Callie —the same worrying look she had before. I must look completely vulnerable. And Dr. Hahn can't allow that.

Immediately, I compose myself. If all these years of fighting to be the best and to not let my emotions control my actions —even before I learned that I had to fight my way to beat the Old Boy's Club in medicine— has taught me anything, that would be to seem and act calm when inside I wanted to stab someone in the chest. "Yeah, sure. I just needed to use the bathroom." I'm not sure why, but my ever-present façade at work has never worked with her and because of it she's learned to see through me. She studies my face like she always has and I can tell she doesn't believe me. Right now, in front of her, not even _I_ buy that lie, as believable as it may be to others.

"We can leave if you want to," Callie suggests. "I mean, it's been fun, but we—" she pauses and shakes her head, her eyes closed, laughing at God knows what. "We can go if you want to," she finally says, looking deeply into my eyes.

I look away and break her worried stare. I want to tell her that we'd better. It's what I should do if I don't want to feel what I feel for her, so that my aim won't be displaced. But I can't stand to see a sad look on her glorious, beautiful face.

So, inevitably, I bend to her wishes. "No, it's okay. It _has_ been fun, actually," I catch a huge, real smile on her face now. "Besides," I lean in just a little since the music outside the bathroom is louder now. "You said I was not to leave without learning some moves. Or were you just bluffing, Torres?" I challenge her. And I know she'll fall for that.

Before we head to the dance floor, Callie takes my hand and leads me to the bar to get more drinks. I don't usually drink this much, but when I'm with Callie I do many things I don't usually do. Besides, it's not like I'm going to get drunk. I can hold my alcohol and I don't intend to have a headache when I'm in the OR tomorrow morning; but I should just give in from time to time, right? It's what Callie often tells me, and I think a few drinks would help ease my insecurities and —just for tonight— let myself _feel_.

Just for tonight.

Callie finishes up her shot of tequila and stands up. "Ready?" She smiles at me and her slightly flustered chest tells me she won't be able to hold up more than just a couple of drinks.

I leave my wine on the tabletop and stand up as well. "After you, Torres." I give her a playful smile I didn't even know I had, and she giggles.

When we start to dance, Callie is closer to me and she has put my hands on her hips. I must say, I can't complain about our physical proximity —I honestly wouldn't want it any other way—, but it makes it harder for me to just feel whatever it is that I feel and keep it to myself, rather than act on it and automatically ruin everything. God, her mere giggles are the most perfect sound I've ever heard, and the way she _sways_ her hips… it makes me want to grab her tight and kiss her like no one ever has before. But it also unsettles me because I don't understand how someone like her —so… _perfect_— can possibly be alone. If I were someone else, if I could freely tell her how she makes me feel right now and every time I'm near her, if I could give her everything she deserves, I wouldn't ruin my chance, I would never let her go. I don't think she'd want that from me, though. She's obviously dancing so close to me because she thinks it's safe to do so, because she thinks I would never think what I'm thinking right know.

And I can't betray her trust, can I?

"You know, Erica," she whispers into my ear, pushing my hair behind it, and I feel her touch all over my body, setting me on fire. "You look really pretty tonight."

I feel my face burning and I try to laugh it off, but it comes out as a nervous laugh. And Callie's giving me her playful smirk that she can barely pull off because she's obviously, and terribly, holding up those contagious giggles. It's the tequila talking, I'm sure. I blame the alcohol. I _have_ to blame the alcohol.

"I thought you could hold your precious tequila better, Torres" I inch forward, my hands still resting on her hips —I don't think I can pull away if someone asked me to— and I whisper to her just like she did. "You look nice. But I think you're drunk, Callie."

"Wha— I'm not _drunk_! I'm… _tipsy,_" I love the way she tries to make excuses. "And," she lifts her left hand in protest. "'_Nice?_" her features show disbelief, like it's impossible I haven't noticed how beautiful she looks tonight. But I have; I'm just not sure I can tell her that without telling her all the other things she is and looks tonight, and without revealing how she makes me feel tonight. How she's made me feel since the day we played darts and I was mesmerized by her. "Excuse me, Doctor Hahn, but I am _killing_ tonight." She may be wrong about being just tipsy, but she's certainly not wrong about that.

"You know, Callie, I've always admired your modesty," I joke. "Even when... _tipsy_" I smirk at does have a killer look tonight. Every night. All the time. And it is so stupid of me to just realize that now.

I shouldn't have drunk so much. I'm not drunk, of that I'm as sure as I can be, but the alcohol is making me think —and do— things that could show her how I feel and I just _can't_ help it. Like now, I'm looking at her like a love-struck, sixteen-year-old boy who, might I add, can't control his hands, because I'm now pulling her to my arms by her glorious hips, leaning forward, holding gazes for a moment too long. I just want to tell her how beautiful she looks tonight. I know it's risky, that I shouldn't do this, that I shouldn't even be _touching_ her, but I just…

I can't help it tonight. I don't _want _to stop myself tonight. I just want to _feel_ this, feel _her_. I told myself that it was just going to be this night that I would stop thinking and just let myself _feel._ Just tonight. I've been acting rational for far too long. Tonight, I just want to sway her hips against mine. I want to tell her what a gorgeous person she is. What a gorgeous _woman_ she is.

Woman.

Oh, God. Again, _woman_.

This _cannot_ be happening again.

"Hey, Callie," Ugh. It's Sloan's clone again. _How annoying. _I thought I didn't like him because he looked like Sloan, but there's something about his cocky smile that really bothers me. Maybe not only does he _look_ like Sloan, but he also _acts_ like him. "Wanna dance?"

Callie gives him a caring smile, and looks at me. I'm not sure what she's trying to tell me or if she wants to tell me anything at all, but there's something in her eyes, though. For a fraction of a second, and probably an effect from all the alcohol she drank tonight, but there's something in her beautiful eyes that I can't quite read.

She looks at him again and shakes her head. "No, thank you," she says apologetically, before I can even face that fact that some pretty guy is always going to take her away from me.

Surprised, I look back at Callie —who is smiling so widely at me now—, and then I look at Sloan's cocky twin when he shrugs and says, "Your loss" and finally leaves.

"I thought you liked him," I try not to sound too happy.

Callie gives me a quick spin, "Yeah, he touches me a lot, so…"

"You certainly didn't mind that earlier," now I try not to sound too jealous.

And she giggles; she just giggles. "Well, how am I supposed to teach you when I'm dancing the night out with someone else, huh, Doctor Hahn?" she teases.

* * *

"Yes, perfect!" Callie claps her hands after I successfully sway my hips and turn us both around; one of the many dance steps she's taught me tonight. "I told you you could do it." She looks so happy, maybe _too_ happy. Maybe a little drunk, too. "And I think we should toast to that, Doctor Dance-the-night-out-Hahn."

I squint at her to see if she is kidding, but I think she really wants to toast to… me, dancing? "There's no champagne here, Callie."

"Who says you can only toast with champagne? Let's drink te-qui-la!" She specifically stresses the last word and gives me a huge grin.

But I really don't think we need to drink anymore alcohol tonight. "Tequila? No, Callie," I shake my head. "You're far too _'tipsy' _tonight," I raise my eyebrows, an indication —as much as it can be in my current state— that I'm serious. "No more alcohol for _any_ of us." Callie pouts, and I swear it takes all my strength not to kiss her beautiful mouth.

I let myself feel for the night, but I can't let _her_ know what I feel. I can't —and won't— risk what I have with her for a mere distraction, for something that could never be.

"It's too late, Callie. And we have to work tomorrow," I finally say, mentally kicking myself for even contemplating the thought that maybe kissing her won't bring any bad consequences. But it will. It always does.

Callie grins smugly at me. "Actually, Erica, I think we have to work _today_."

I glance at the dance floor and see there are just few other couples dancing around. I frown slightly, grab Callie's hand —not missing that beautiful, scary rush of utter happiness I get from it— and lead us both back to the bar. When the bartender informs me that it's almost five in the morning —4:50 a.m.— what's left from my sober self —which, might I add, is not that much— freaks out a little bit; and my inebriated self, along with Callie, bursts out laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh my God," Callie is drying her tears from laughing so much against me.

"We've _literally_ danced the night out! Callie, it's almost five in the morning. I've never stayed out this late since…" I try to remember the time, but nothing comes to mind. Not high school, not med school and certainly not later in my life. Ever since med school, my priority has been my career; to be the good— the _great_ surgeon that I am, I need to rest and do research and have discipline. And staying out until the early hours of the morning doesn't exactly help. "I think I've never stayed out this late _at all._"

Callie raises her eyebrows in surprise, "Well, there you go. Aren't you glad your first time was with me?" she wiggles her eyebrows… seductively?

We stop laughing and smile at each other. Her chest is flustered and, I guess this is yet another effect from the alcohol, but… she glows. "It's been fun, though," I hold her gaze.

Feeling her hand squeeze mine tighter, I look down and realize that, even after laughing so much, we're still holding hands.

It's perfect.

It's… painful.

"Hey, where's— where…" Callie looks at the other bar stools, laughing. "Where's my coat?" she finally says.

"Callie, you didn't _bring_ one," I tell her between laughs. She looks like she is trying to remember something and then she laughs again. "Okay," I point at her. "You need coffee— _We_ need coffee."

"Lots and lots and lots—," she stumbles against me and I can still recognize her faint perfume, the smoothness of her arms, her hair tickling my chest. It feels incredible, for the infinitesimal second she's pressed up against me. When we gaze at each other, I see she's blushing slightly. She swallows hard. "Lots of coffee."

"Oh, Callie…," I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "What time does your shift start?"

"Uh… I think… seven…?" she tries to hold the giggles and feigns innocence.

I roll my eyes at her and leave some money on the tabletop to pay our bill. "Come on, let's go," she entwines our arms together and we head outside the club. "I guess we need a ride to the hospital, too."

We stop in the entrance of the hospital to get some coffee. Callie is resting her head on my shoulder and her arm is wrapping mine the same way it was when we left the club and when we were waiting for a cab and all the way here. She was asleep in the cab and I was stroking her hair ever so slightly. I must have looked completely ridiculous because when I glanced up, I saw the cab driver staring at me containing his laughter. Feeling myself begin to blush, I gave him my _Hahn_ _Stare, _which only half worked, because he still laughed a little but at least looked away, waiting for the traffic light to change.

I know I should have controlled myself, but it's not like I was doing something completely wrong, was it? I was just stroking her hair. Sure, feelings and the alcohol must have made me look silly, but I just was trying to soothe her. There's nothing wrong with that, right? And I can't help it anyway. Not today.

She's beautiful, there's no doubt of that now. But her easiness and closeness and intoxicating scent makes me shiver and lose control for a moment. I can't help myself when it comes to her today. Today —and all the time, I fear— when I look at her, I know I must look like such a fool, but she dazzles me. And I think she notices my silly expression, but I guess she thinks it's the effect of the alcohol because she says nothing.

"Hi Tom," Callie greets the coffee guy. "We need…" She raises her index finger just above her head and is about to say something when she suddenly stops. I think she's forgot what we need. God, we shouldn't have drunk as much. She's not sober at all.

"Coffee?" Tom asks smiling at the expression Callie makes when she tries to remember, which shouldn't be that hard since we're standing in front of Tom and the smell of coffee is as strong as ever.

"Yes! Coffee," she says, pointing at him with this huge grin on her face.

"Oh, God. Richard is going to kill us, Callie."

"_Bailey'_s gonna kill us," she grabs her coffee and thanks Tom for it.

"Bailey?" I ask her. Why would Bailey kill us when she's just a resident. A good one, yes, but a resident none the less.

"Chief Resident," she reminds me. "She's gonna kill _me_. And the chief is gonna kill me too." And then Callie starts to laugh uncontrollably again.

"What, what is it?" I smile. I love her laughter; it's so contagious.

"I'm gonna get double killed!" she manages to say between tears of laughter again. God, those perfect giggles. I laugh along with her; not because what she said is funny but because it's so… silly.

"Callie?" I smirk at her. She stops laughing and looks at me. I could kiss her right now. I _want_ to kiss her right now. But what I want the most is for my actions not to have bad repercussions; is for me not to think about the 'what ifs' so much.

"Yeah?" She distracts me from my thoughts, from staring at her beautiful eyes, her gorgeous mouth.

"Just… shut up and drink your coffee," I give her a warm smile that doesn't even begin to tell her how I feel, but it's all I can do. It's all I can ever show her.

She smiles back and cups my cheek with her right hand. She cups my cheek, closes her eyes and stumbles against me, against my chest, and her perfume invades all my senses again. "Coffee isn't working," she mumbles the words in my shoulder and I fight the need to pull her tighter.

"Come on," I unwillingly lift her to walk towards the hospital. "Let's get you some water—"

"And Tylenol." She interrupts me.

"Yes, Tylenol, too," I tuck her hair behind her ear again.

"You know, despite the upcoming headache, I had a lot of fun last night. And this morning," she grins at me. I think she's a bit sober now. I _hope_ she's a bit sober now.

"Me, too. We should do this again. The dancing part, I mean," I clarify.

"I told you you were going to love it."

"You told me," I reply once we are at the elevator once we're alone.

"Next time," she points at me. "Sunrise _yo-ga_," she lifts both hands above her head and draws the shape of the sun in the horizon.

"You're kidding, right?" I ask, a smirk in my voice, and a bit of horror, too. While the thought of Callie bending in so different positions is enough to accept, the thought of _me_ doing those positions if enough to decline. "I'm _not_ doing that," I tell her just before we head to the nurses' station.

"You are _so_ gonna do it," Callie says.

"I'm so not!" I reply back.

"Hey, Callie," Ugh. _Yang_. Callie leaves to talk to Yang while I check the patients I have for today at the nurses' station.

_Sunrise yoga_.

It _is_ quite tempting. Not the yoga part, of course; but being with Callie? I smile to myself when I remember this morning and last night. Who am I kidding? I'll say yes in the end. I'd go and do anything if it involves her. I hope she doesn't know that, though. I don't want her to know that my barriers don't quite work with her. Although, now that I think about it, I have a feeling she knows, because I bet she'll find a way to drag me to sunrise yoga even if I pretend I don't want to go.

I'll go in the end.

I mean, it's _only_ yoga, right?


End file.
